


Overnight Train

by nightfalltwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Time, Kissing, Lingerie, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:47:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightfalltwen/pseuds/nightfalltwen
Summary: Harry's travelling the continent with his personal assistant, Pansy Parkinson, on a goodwill tour for the Ministry.  Things can change so easily when you're on an overnight train to Istanbul.





	Overnight Train

**Author's Note:**

  * For [silvernatasha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvernatasha/gifts).



> Written for my first Kinky Kristmas submission a few years ago.

_5 December, 2003_

"Well that… was a useless waste of time and now we're completely behind schedule. I do hope you're happy. That charity Quidditch game was completely unnecessary." Pansy flipped through a large folder. "I've had to write ahead tell the Turkish Ministry that we're cancelling on the gala in Istanbul and will only be able to make the Minister's luncheon." She frowned. "I had new shoes for that gala."

Harry, shooed into the compartment by his raging assistant, rolled his eyes and dropped onto one of the benches. He rubbed the back of his neck, certain that he pulled something making that last dive for the snitch. The train lurched as it pulled away from the station. He leaned forward and dug around in his pack until he found a vial of potion. Pouring a little into his palm, he rubbed it into his skin, rolling his shoulders as the started to relax. 

"Remind me again why we're not just taking a portkey instead?" he asked and dropped the vial back into his bag.

Pansy made a frustrated noise and dropped the folder onto the seat beside her. "One, the ministry likes the idea of you rolling into town like some sort of hero. And I _suppose_ they might have something going there. People seem to like it. I've told you this how many times already? Two, the ministry still hasn't lifted my ban on magical travel. So don't ask silly questions, Potter." The private train compartment was equipped with a small fridge alongside one of the benches. She scooted to the edge of the seat and dug around inside until she pulled out a bottle of water. "Take solace in the fact that you only have me for three more months and then I can apply for a reinstatement. We'll both be back to apparating and portkeys before you know it."

Harry pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, shoving his glasses up into his hair. This fifteen day tour of Europe had not been his first choice of things to do after finally capturing the last Death Eater holdout from the first war. Europe had been awash with celebration and Harry's celebrity status had skyrocketed once again only this time the entire continent was vying for his attention. Owls had been delivered to the Ministry in droves and the Ministry finally arranged a tour to appease everyone.

He could have quit his job. That would have been easy enough. Quit his job. He could have focused on trying to repair his now strained relationship with Ginny, something that was made even more strained now that he was spending fifteen days travelling the continent without her. He could have done a lot of things.

But he'd said yes.

Pansy went back to her folder and started talking about the next stop and the schedule that they had to rearrange. Harry partially listened to her as he stared out the window. His mind wandered as the light from the train flashed on the trees whirring past. He couldn't see much else in the dark and just wished that Pansy would go to her own compartment. He could turn down the bed and crash.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts and Pansy's voice. She stood and went over to the compartment door. When she slid it open, a man in a porter's uniform stood in the corridor outside the compartment. He held out a sealed envelope. "An owl caught up with the train with this for you, sir."

Pansy took the letter without so much of a thank you. She glanced once at the front and then passed it to Harry, sliding the door closed to dismiss the porter. Harry would have said something about manners, but he was too busy dealing with the sinking feeling in his stomach. The handwriting on the front of the envelope was entirely too familiar. She wouldn't write him on the trip, sending an owl to try and reach him on a train if it wasn't important. The kind of importance was what concerned Harry. It could either be really good news that he couldn't get home to deal with. 

Or really bad news.

Returning to her seat, Pansy picked up the itinerary, but didn't speak. With a frown, Harry tore open the letter.

_Harry,_

_I've been thinking a lot about us and I don't--_

Harry's hand clenched slightly, wrinkling the parchment. He continued to read and then looked into the envelope, tipping it slightly. A small ring slid out onto his palm. The stone glittered in the dim light of the train compartment.

"She's breaking it off with you over a letter, isn't she?" Pansy asked after a long moment. "Coward."

"Pass me one of those tiny bottles," Harry said, not answering her question. He pointed to the little fridge beside her. "Actually. Pass me eleven of them."

Pansy gave a dry laugh and snapped her itinerary folder shut. "I will do nothing of the sort. You need to be sober or at least _not_ hung over for our meeting tomorrow."

A flare of irritation flooded through Harry's body. Sure she was his assistant, but he certainly wasn't the boss of her. It didn't matter how much they'd grown accustomed to working together and it really didn't matter that he'd grown to consider her less of an enemy and more of a friend. Standing up, he glowered at her and moved to reach for the tiny fridge's door. Pansy, it seemed, was faster than he'd given her credit and she'd snapped out her leg, pinning the door closed.

"Leave it, Parkinson," he said. "I'm not in the mood."

"No, I can see that," she replied, not moving her leg. She tossed her itinerary to the side and stood in front of him. "Come on."

Without waiting for him to respond, she took hold of his hand and marched toward the door. Harry gave one final, fleeting glance toward the fridge, wondering why he wasn't protesting or pulling free. It wasn't like Pansy had a muscular advantage over him. But he followed her as she led him through the car, out the door between it and through the next. People dozed in the open seating and the servers in the dining car were clearing the last of the plates, flicking their wands at tablecloths. No one paid the two of them any mind.

When they reached the end of the last car, Pansy let go of his hand and heaved on the door. The back end of the train was a little platform with a rail. She stepped out onto it, her skirt flapping about her thighs and waved her hand for him to join her.

"When Draco decided that he needed to cut his losses and try to start anew with a better image, an image that didn't include me, I was a wreck." She gripped the metal railing. "No magic, no magical travel, no boyfriend. I took the night trains a lot, stood at the back and screamed obscenities into the night. My favourite was the train through the Channel Tunnel. They say you're not supposed to go outside, but I tended to get ignored a lot."

Pansy patted the railing and then made a 'go on' gesture. 

"I don't…" Harry frowned, thinking this was utterly ridiculous. "I'm not sure what you want me to do."

"I want you to stare out at the tracks and scream, swear, spit… get really angry." Pansy turned to face the receding countryside and leaned back. Then she threw herself forward and screamed out into the night. "God fucking bloody HELL OF AN ARSEWIPE!"

Harry stared at her, his mouth hanging open. Not once in the six months he'd worked with Pansy Parkinson had he thought she even knew how to swear. And it didn't stop at arsewipe. She went on for another minute or so, shrieking the filthiest things into the night. Then she looked at him expectantly. A slender eyebrow rose up and she pushed her windswept hair out of her face.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Potter, just get on with it. You lived in the same room as Weasley for seven years. I'm sure you learnt a few choice words in all that time. Unless you're afraid someone might hear you and think less of you."

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing that she was baiting him and not wanting to give in to her prodding. Except he was angry. He was angry at Ginny for waiting until now. He was angry that he'd not even been given a chance. He was angry that he couldn't seem to say no to the Ministry, no matter how much he really didn't want to be their poster boy. He'd just wanted to hunt bad guys and put them away and now all the bad guys were gone and now he wasn't even sure what he was going to do with his life now.

Suddenly he wheeled about and leaned over the rail. "Fucking _shit_ ," he shouted into the night, kicking the railing for good measure. "Shit-mother! God damn, _fuck_!"

When it was over, both of them out of breath and shivering in the cold, Pansy suggested they go back inside. Harry nodded and held the door open so she could step back into the warm car. He followed, watching her from behind and trying to sort through some thoughts that were just now coming to the surface. He'd not expected her to understand things or have a way to make him feel better so easily. He'd not expected a lot of things when he'd first started working with Pansy Parkinson, but it was proving to be a relationship he was enjoying.

"Hold up," he said suddenly.

She paused and looked back at him.

Two strides later, Harry had closed the distance between them and backed her up against the wall, pressing his mouth against hers. She made this little surprised sound. For a beat or two, Harry didn't move. He just stood there, lips pressing to lips, wondering if she'd just push him away. Her hands were already on his chest and he was waiting for it. He was waiting for the push and then the slap. But that didn't happen. Instead her hands slid up, arms winding around his neck and she pressed back against him from chest to thigh.

Harry's hand slipped around her waist, his other pressing against the wall of the train corridor. He was losing himself in the kiss, her mouth both firm and yet pliant, lips tasting of something that he couldn't quite place. And just when he thought he'd pull away and apologise, Pansy's hands buried into his hair and she tipped her head to the side, changing the whole dynamic of a kiss that might have never gone that far. Suddenly it turned into teeth and lips and tongue and Harry was drowning in it.

He wasn't sure when he came up for air. He didn't quite remember the almost mad dash back to the compartment. Maybe a little bit of it. He remembered pinning her up against the door between train cars, hand sliding under his skirt. But beyond that it was mostly a blur. He was certainly grateful that the porters had used their absence to turn down the bed for him. It was a cramped space, certainly not the best situation for romance and Harry wasn't even sure this was going to be romantic. Romance wasn't exactly his thing if he was being honest.

Pansy's hands flew to his belt, undoing it, while Harry worked on the tiny buttons down the length of her blouse and tried desperately to not give into the urge to just grip the fabric and pull, popping all the buttons at once. He suspected ripping the garment would work in the same way as a cold bucket of water.

Sucking in a breath, Harry looked at her as he pushed the fabric down over her shoulders. He'd thought about what she wore under her clothing on occasion. He was a man in his twenties, he thought about what a lot of women wore under their clothing. But he'd never pictured this. The bra was tiny, this barely there, delicate little shelf. He didn't even know what to call it, but he liked it. 

He liked it a lot.

Reaching out, he traced a finger along the edge of the lace that barely came up over her nipples. His fingers brushed against them and he felt them rise up. There was a change in the pace of her breathing. Just one little tug, he thought, and he could expose her completely.

"Does it all match?" He asked, realising after he said it how ridiculous the question sounded.

Pansy gave a throaty chuckle, moving back from him just a little. There wasn't much space in the compartment with the bed set up. "Are you asking to see my knickers, Potter?"

"Might be." Harry took the opportunity to tug his shirt up over his head and drop it on the floor.

Lifting her chin, Pansy gave him a sly sort of look and then reached to the zipper at the side (the side? He didn't recall there being zippers at the side before) of her skirt, tugging it down. She slid the garment over her hips and let it fall. Harry was, in that moment, very glad that he wasn't a randy teenager. Not that being a randy twenty-something was any better, mind you, but he at least was able to keep some sort of control of himself. It would be mortifyingly embarrassing if he'd come in his trousers like a fifth year.

Around her waist was a belt of similar colour to her bra. Little ribbons hung down her legs and attached to the lacy tops of stockings that hit her at mid-thigh. And that's all she had. Stockings. And the belt.

"They don't match at all," he choked out, his mind reeling at the idea that she'd not been wearing any knickers under her skirt this whole time.

"Mmm.. .no. They don't." 

Pansy stepped closer, her hands moving to the button of his fly and pushing his trousers down. His cock strained almost painfully at his shorts, tenting them out. He swallowed, shifting his gaze toward the ceiling, a hand flying out to grab onto the wall as her fingers moved over his waist, darting under the band of his shorts. She hooked her fingers in the fabric and started pushing it down as well. As she lowered the shorts toward the floor, he dropped his eyes back to her face and watched as she lowered herself, looking up at him with an amused look on her face.

"After all you've faced, _this_ is what makes you nervous?" Pansy traced her hands up his thighs, kneeling in front of him.

"Not calling it nervous," Harry said, his voice a little bit strained and slightly higher than normal. Part of him wanted to ask her to stop, to tell her she didn't have to do this. Part of him wanted to tug her to her feet and toss her on the bed and bear her down against the mattress. He licked his lips. The rest of him _really_ wanted to see her mouth put to creative use. "I am calling it anticipatory."

A smirk crossed her face and her hand circled around the base of his cock, tongue tracing from where her hand was to the very tip and then back down again. Harry groaned and was certain that his eyes were crossing. His hand clenched into a fist and he thumped it against the door behind him, vaguely glad for the spells that darkened the window or the corridor would have gotten a right good view of his bare arse pressed up against it. Her tongue traced the same path once more and Harry sucked in another breath, his knees turning to jelly as she took it one step further and he felt himself slipping into her mouth.

Moments passed. Moments that might have been longer or shorter, Harry wasn't sure of the passage of time at this point only the sensation of her clever lips and clever tongue and the guttural sound that she seemed to be coaxing from his throat. When her teeth scraped against his skin, he was sure that his nails were cutting little crescents into his palms.

"Stop," he protested, panting for air.

She did. And the sound of his cock pulling free of her mouth, that soft little 'pop', almost had him undone. 

Harry tugged her up. This time he didn't pause when the urge struck him to tug the fabric of her tiny bra. The straps slipped down her upper arm. It bunched under her breasts and pushed them up just a little bit more. She gave him a look, running one of her fingers over the side of her mouth. Harry tugged her against him, their bodies colliding and he kissed her hard. His hand slid up her ribcage to her breast and squeezed. This time the little noise came from her throat, not his and she wrapped an arm around him.

He broke off the kiss and pressed his mouth to her neck, biting the skin just above her collar bone.

"Turn," she said, her voice straining just a little. "Turn around."

Harry lifted his head and looked at her, confused. There was something not quite right about the image she'd just created in his head. "Sorry?"

"Sit down," she demanded. "This is awkward."

"Oh!" An embarrassing flush coloured his face and Harry did as instructed, sitting on the edge of the tiny bed.

Within moments, Pansy had straddled his thighs, positioning herself so that they were almost joined. She looked down at him, her forehead almost touching his, drawing in a slow breath as Harry slid his hands up her thighs, playing a bit with the little straps holding her stockings. Then she sank down, the compartment filling with groans from the both of them. 

Harry's hands clamped to her hips, pulling her snugly against him. Pansy's hands, which had been resting on his shoulders, curled slightly and her nails pinched into his skin which sent a shiver of sensation up his spine. He leaned forward and ghosted his lips against hers, lightly snapping his teeth against her lower lip, just enough to catch the flesh and hold it before letting go. 

Pansy gasped and her fingers dug into his shoulders again. She rose up on her knees a little and then sank down again. The sensation was thrilling and soon enough she'd set a rhythm of rising and falling. Her breath puffed lightly in his ear as she held onto him and moved against him. Harry slid his hand over her thigh and between their bodies, flattening it against her abdomen and then twisting it around so that his thumb could slip down between them, circling it around her clit.

The sound that she made was enough to let him know he was doing the right thing and he pressed a little harder.

"Harry," she gasped, bouncing harder, her hips hitting his and her fingers digging. "Oh god…"

 

Harry got her to lean back just a little and dipped his head down to press a kiss to the spot between her breasts. "Of the two," he said with a smile, "I prefer Harry."

She smacked his chest. "Oh shut up."

A wicked smile curled at the edge of Harry's mouth and he wrapped his arms around her, turning them both. In a flurry of movement he had her on her back on the small bed. His fingers moved from between her legs to her leg, lifting one up over his hip as his hips snapped against hers. Pansy arched her back, her breasts thrusting up and bouncing from the impact. She gasped and cried out. His whole body was near the brink and he couldn't keep himself in check, his movements becoming scattered and unfocused. He gripped the top of the bed and pressed himself against her, a groan escaping as he lost control, coming in a shuddering release.

Sucking in a few deep breaths, he kept himself moving, his hand slipping back between their bodies and it didn't take much before she was shaking and writhing beneath him, his name on her lips.

"That's a first for me," she said once their breathing had normalised and they'd shifted around so she was curled on top of him, a blanket drawn up over their naked bodies.

"First for me too," Harry said. "Don't think they have a name for it for trains like they do for aeroplane loos."

"No…" Pansy lifted her head and rested her chin against his chest. "I mean all of this…" She waved her hand. "A first."

Harry looked at her for a long moment and then his eyes widened. "Ever?" When she nodded, he tried to sit up. "Shit, Pansy, why didn't you tell me? I mean, I would have been… I should… didn't it hurt? I wasn't exactly gentle."

Pansy pressed him back down and wriggled against him. "Calm yourself, Potter. It's not like the books say with the whole breaking or popping thing. Relax. I wasn't saving myself for marriage." She pressed a kiss to his shoulder. "Besides. You have a good eight more hours before we reach Istanbul. Plenty of time to be gentle. Don't you think?"

If anyone would have told him that he would be on a train with Pansy Parkinson, considering a very welcome and sleepless night exploring every inch of her, he would have called them mad. If they had told him it would happen only moments after having a ring tossed back at him by a former woman in his life, he would have scoffed. And yet he was in just that situation. 

And he _quite_ enjoyed it.

Pansy sat up, hunching over to kiss his chest and then his shoulder and then his neck. Harry decided right then and there that he wasn't going to dwell on things. He was going to enjoy this train trip.


End file.
